


Supply and Demand

by comfycozysweaters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Camboy Lance, Camboy Rolo, M/M, Sex Club, Sex Work, TBI, Timeline is a bit funky, klance, sex worker Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comfycozysweaters/pseuds/comfycozysweaters
Summary: A hesitant tap to the image brought Keith to a page with two albums and a whole collection of videos, all with thumbnails that dried his mouth and shot straight to his gut.It hit him as he found the oldest in the archive dating back to a month after Lance had left them.Lance wasn’t just some model.Lance was a fucking camboy.





	Supply and Demand

**Author's Note:**

> This took forever to write! But I’m a sucker for stripper aus. Also I moved the timeline of certain events around to fit thos fic.
> 
> ART: http://brpeerpressureart.tumblr.com/post/181099238643/

Lance had been missing for a year and two months before the remaining Paladins of Voltron found him.   
  
To be more accurate, it was Keith who stumbled upon their latest and most reliable lead while curiously scrolling through a tablet connected to the Galaxy Cyber Space, an internet-like network that spanned an entire system. It had been months since their search petered out as hope gave way to acceptance and mourning. Even as tenacious as they were, a search that turned up zero leads in over a year eventually wore the group down until they were forced to moved on.   
  
Luckily Red accepted Keith back and Shiro was able to wrangle in Black’s trust again. They all said it was temporary but eventually they were forced to accept the new line up as more than that. It was with a heavy heart they formed Voltron without the exuberant pilot. He was missed in the silence that stretched during or after a fight, in the lack of response to jokes and sarcastic barbs. Despite his absence, Lance was a heavy presence in all of their minds.   
  
Discontent morphed into a quiet acceptance and they learned to move on.   
  
Right up until a chance run in with a familiar face.    
  
Nyma surprisingly approached them first after she locked eyes with Pidge and Keith in the crowded market place of a Coalition supply station. She looked older, as if she’d aged ten years in only one. It was mostly her eyes, dark and stormy. They bored into Keith’s as she approached them and he felt his heart stutter in his chest at the sight. Her confident smile from last time was replaced by a serious frown that wrinkled her cheeks and gave her an intimidating edge. Gone was her facade of friendly naïveté, replaced by the rugged bounty hunter that grabbed his hand and yanked him and Pidge into the back corner of a seedy poorly lit bar.    
  
She ordered them a drink sort of like beer if beer were a bubbly pink with green edging the glass. Neither of the Paladins complained as they took up their respective glasses and waited. It took awhile for Nyma to speak up. She seemed lost in the swirl of her glass.   
  
“I need help,” she finally supplied. Keith snorted derisively, thinking of the last time they had “helped” the alien and her crew. She frowned. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I do need your help. I can even supply you something you need.”   
  
Pidge took over the conversation after a silent exchange where Keith managed to convey that he wouldn’t humor Nyma even if she had the Galra’s weakness in her back pocket.    
  
“Something we need?” They asked, curiosity louder than common sense. “We don’t really need anything right now. Voltron is doing fine with the backing of the Blade of Marmora and the rebels. What could you possibly have?”   
  
Nyma pursed her lips as she thought. “I know where you can find your missing Paladin.”   
  
Her words slammed into them with an unexpected force that had Keith choking on his drink and Pidge gasping audibly. They stared wide eyed as Nyma’s playful smirk reappeared. She cocked a brow in question and Pidge quickly gathered herself. “What... How?”   
  
Nyma shrugged. “Let’s just say I know a guy. So will you help?”   
  
Keith was already surging forward ready to grab Nyma and force the information out of her but Pidge beat him to it. They slammed their hands on the table and stood, nearly knocking over their chair in the process. “You’re using this as a bartering chip? He’s been missing and you just-“ They gave a frustrated noise that encompassed every negative emotion Keith was feeling in the moment.    
  
Nyma wasn’t affected. She looked up at Pidge and waited for them to calm down. Once Pidge slumped back into their chair, she nodded. “Yes I am. I’m a bounty hunter, what did you expect?”   
  
“Fine. What do you need?” Keith was tempted to escalate the situation, say fuck it and force the answer out of Nyma, but he settled for clenching his hands into fists under the table.    
  
“I have a shipment coming in that needs to be transported to a Rebel base. I could use some extra protection. My last crew bailed after we were hit by the Galra and the route I’m flying is through Galra space. It’s mostly medical aid but there’s a few weapons and tech the Rebels need to bolster their defenses.” The request wasn’t as dramatic as either Paladin expected and they were quick to answer.   
  
“We’ll have to talk to the others, but if it’s for the Rebels that shouldn’t be a problem.” Pidge crossed their arms. “And the info?”   
  
Nyma smirked and took a folded piece of paper from her front pocket and slid it across the table. Keith took it and inspected it. His brow furrowed. “What is this?”   
  
“It’s page. Enter it into a Network capable device and you’ll find Lance.”    
  
He still wasn’t convinced. “How do we know this is any good?”   
  
Nyma shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.”   
  
And that was the end of their discussion.   
  
Of course Allura was quick to accept the terms. The hope that had been absent for so long now reemerged, lighting a fire in their veins. Helping the Rebels was a plus of course but none of them could deny the nervous energy that underlined the preparation and execution of the transport. As a precaution only the Black, Blue, and Yellow Lions went on the mission leaving Pidge to set up a connection between the Castle and their newly discovered Internet Network and Keith in case the Castle needed protection or more likely as Pidge’s assistant. Mostly he spent the next two days refreshing the tablet Pidge was connecting and training to work out the anxiousness that set in.   
  
Pidge had already gone to bed for the night when Keith slumped into his chair on the bridge. He had the tablet in his hands but he only had eyes for the stars above. For the first time in months he wondered if Lance was staring at the same systems. Was he even in the same galaxy? Probably not. They had moved on from where they lost him so the likelihood was low.   
  
A soft chime drew his attention to the tablet. The program it had been running nonstop since Pidge began their work on it was static with an unknown symbol displayed. Curiously he tapped it and sat up straight when the screen burst to life, languages flipping by him almost too fast for him to respond. It expanded translating everything into common until he was staring at a page he had to assume was the equivalent to a home page. There were icons much like the displays on the Altean screens he’d become accustomed to in the Castle and his Lion and he poked around them until one brought up a bar with a rough keyboard.    
  
It hit him that this is what they’d been looking for. He jammed his hand into his pocket and brought out the strip of paper Nyma had given him, entering the code in and hitting select with a tremble.   
  
A page appeared advertising... something. There were aliens of varying races depicted in tasteful clothing that flattered and accentuated their various features. Scrolling through the tabs brought him to a navigation page and he curiously carded through the options. At first things seemed normal though he had no clue how he was supposed to find Lance this way. Then the subjects began to change. They went from a boutique showing models in clothing and accessories for sale to what could only be services provided. It seemed to be a site for an entire city of entertainment, much like Las Vegas only compacted into a single site rather than the multiple different pages that Earth’s internet would provide.    
  
Boutiques gave way to clubs gave way to restaurants. Casinos and concert venues. Shows and their schedules that led to personalized sections on the performers or history of the subject.   
  
He went through it all meticulously and was about to call it quits when he finally stumbled on a mention that piqued his interest.    
  
BLUE PRINCE LIVE FOR A SINGLE QUINTENT   
  
It couldn’t be that obvious.   
  
He tapped the link and a page opened with a poster for some webcast appeared. Lance was reclined against a velvet chaise lounge with torn up jeans and a cropped top on staring ahead and smiling.   
  
Then anger hit.   
  
While the Paladins were struggling and mourning the loss of him, Lance was working as, what? A fucking model? While they toiled and searched until exhaustion weighed on them to their fucking bones Lance was living it up in Space Las Vegas?    
  
How fucking—Did he even know that they had been looking for him? Was he hiding from them? He had to be. There was no way he’d be oblivious to their struggles. Voltron was a celebrity at this point. Word of their accomplishments preceded their arrival most places they wound up. He had to have known.   
  
Trying to control his temper, Keith took a steady breath. He exhaled slowly and scoured the page for more information. There wasn’t much, just a time and place. At the bottom of the flyer was a link that led back to the initial page he’d seen. The boutique. Only this time he didn’t navigate away. He followed the prompting from Lance’s add to a page he’d skipped over thinking there was no way he’d find the blue paladin on such a site.    
  
Surprise surprise there was Lance.   
  
Looking very eager into the camera, eyes half lidded and a satisfied smirk tugging at his mouth. He was wearing a gauzy fabric that hung off his shoulders delicately complimenting his tanned skin. But the most notable thing was his hands, cupping and hiding his crotch in a way that seemed inviting rather than a deterrent.   
  
It was so natural that it took a second for Keith to realize he wasn’t wearing pants.    
  
A hesitant tap to the image brought Keith to a page with two albums and a whole collection of videos, all with thumbnails that dried his mouth and shot straight to his gut.    
  
It hit him as he found the oldest in the archive dating back to a month after Lance had left them.   
  
Lance wasn’t just some model.    
  
Lance was a fucking camboy.   
  
Keith slammed the tablet down and abandoned his search.

  
—   
  
“Nyma ran into your crew.” Rolo’s voice was confident despite his uncertainty in Lance’s reaction to the statement. Considering that was the last thing Lance had ever expected to come out of Rolo’s mouth, not even he knew what he’d do until he did it.   
  
And what he did was fumble the camera he’d been setting up with a curse followed by tripping over a rather large cable and ending with his ass on the hard unforgiving ground. He groaned as he righted himself. “You can’t just say that, man! Give me a warning at least.” Rolo was too used to him by now, rolling his eyes at Lance’s pouting and moving to help him up.   
  
“What warning would be appropriate for this? Watch out Lance I’ve got some shocking and possibly shattering news!”    
  
Lance grabbed the offered hand and hoisted himself up with a scowl. “I get your point.” He dusted off and checked to make sure the camera wasn’t damaged by the fall. It looked fine, thank the stars. If he’d broken another one, his boss would have his ass on a platter and then where would Rolo be? Alone without his dashing company and willing mouth.   
  
He’d surely parish.   
  
“Stop looking at me like that, paladin. You know I’d be more than fine without you.” Fuck. The bounty hunter knew him far too well.    
  
“I see your point.” Lance said with a miffed tone. “So she passed along the code?”   
  
Rolo nodded and leaned his hip against the wall next to Lance’s lavish bed. It was piled high with pillows and fancy throws that when mixed with his favorite candles and string lights gave the entire set an intimate air. One just had to ignore the automated cameras, alien laptop, and lighting set up and it’d be a rather comfortable room for any number of activities. The set was so elaborate Lance was tempted to actually use it as his own bedroom from time to time. The thought was always dismissed once the clean up crew   
came in. Last thing he needed after a scene was the rude commentary of the maid staff.    
  
Wreck a room once and suddenly you’re the cleaning crew’s number one enemy.    
  
As it was in this moment he sat heavily on the edge staring at the ground trying to comprehend his new reality. If Nyma had passed on the code he’d given her when they last met some two or three months ago, that meant it was only time before the Paladins saw what he’d become. Shame wasn’t something he connected with his line of work but that didn’t stop the anxious churning in his stomach as he thought of their reactions.   
  
He knew it would happen eventually, he had planned on it once he was ready to be found again, but that didn’t make it easier to adjust. Rolo seemed to recognize his turmoil and climbed on the bed behind him. He massaged the man’s shoulders with his large warm hands and kissed the top of his head. It helped, however little, and Lance found himself relaxing into it. “They’re going to freak out.”   
  
Rolo nodded. “Probably.”   
  
“They’re going to blame you.”   
  
Again he nodded. “I can handle it.”   
  
Lance turned to press into Rolo’s chest wriggling until the alien wrapped his arms around him in a reassuring hug. “I’m not ready.” His voice was small, scared.   
  
Rolo grasped his chin and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you and you know Nyma will be ready to put the fear of her wrath into anyone who tries to disparage our work.”   
  
“I guess...”   
  
“Come on. We’ve got a video to record. Afterwards we’ll get some tea and go shopping. That always cheers you up.” Rolo’s smile was infectious and Lance found himself smiling despite his fears. He leaned up to kiss his cheek before going back to finishing the recording set up. Once done he jumped onto the bed, taking his sweat pants off but leaving the crop top, and impatiently tugged at Rolo until he was on his knees with Lance’s face pressed into his crotch. With a mischievous grin Lance hit record on his remote and yanked down Rolo’s pants.   
  
—   
  
To say Lance knew exactly what he was doing when he left Voltron was giving him far too much credit. His plan had been to sneak out in a pod before he could be stopped, hit up the nearest space port, and hitch a ride to Earth. Obviously he underestimated just how fucking hard it would be to find a ship willing and able to go that far. Not only was Earth in an uncharted section of the universe but it was also through Galra controlled space. No one wanted to go through the trouble of a possible encounter, not even for a Paladin of Voltron.   
  
That was how, a week after abandoning his post, Lance found himself drowning his anxiety in cheap liquor and friendly conversation. Regret and depression permeated every thought which made him less than perceptive. When he was approached by a nice looking... alien—he wasn’t about to assume genders—he thought nothing of it. As they spoke it didn’t escape his notice the flirtatious way the other sidled up to him. Coy smiles and cheesy compliments had him squirming and laughing. It was the most positive thing that had happened to him all week so he didn’t bother questioning it. Not until half his drink was gone and his vision started going wobbly. He stared down detached as the bottle he’d just picked up fell thinking, “I’m not drunk enough to do that.”   
  
Next thing he knew Lance was laying amongst crates and boxes in what looked to be a small cargo ship. His arms and legs were bound and his head was spinning. “What the hell...”   
  
His captor must have heard him stirring because they wasted no time in approaching him, crouching down with a smirk. “Good of you to join us, Paladin.” His voice bounced around Lance’s mind like a fucking bowling ball crashing through a china shop. “Gotta say, you were a lot easier to capture than I thought you’d be. Finding you was so simple! And the bounty on your head from Zarkon himself will be enough to set me up for the rest of my days on a nice little vacation plot.” His smirk stretched to a grin that flashed too many teeth and Lance wondered how he could have trusted it.   
  
Of course he’d been duped. His recklessness had led him here and he had no one to blame but himself. God he wished he could contact the others at that moment but he’d left his suit on the Castle and his tablet on the bed side table at the Inn he’d been holed up in. So much for going home.   
  
He faded in and out after that, the drug still working through his system. It wasn’t until he was slammed against the side of the ship that he noticed the rocking he’d been experiencing wasn’t just in his head. Paralyzed by fear and still unable to move much he was forced to endure the entire confrontation without any knowledge of what the hell was happening. When the ship settled he heard the screech of a busted up door being opened followed by footsteps and the sounds of rummaging. He thought this was it, his last moments alive. He could make out a purple hand and that had to mean they were being boarded by the Galra. He squeezed his eyes shut as they rounded the corner, making peace with his God and praying for a quick death.   
  
“Holy shit. Lance?”   
  
Not what he expected.    
  
Lance’s head shot up in surprise and he nearly cried at the familiar faces of Rolo and Nyma that were staring at him in shock. Nyma was quick to unbind him, Rolo hefting him up and helping him stand.    
  
“H-hey guys. Fancy meeting you here.” The greeting fell flat as he choked up with tears.    
  
Rolo just smiled and moved Lance to their ship, nodding for Nyma to continue with the raid. He gave him water and these thin crisps that tasted kind of like saltines, kind of like gingerbread, but bland enough that it didn’t upset his stomach. “How’d you end up on a smuggler’s ship? Where are the others?”   
  
Lance’s face went red in embarrassment.   
“I, uh, I’m alone. I left Voltron.” His statement hung in the air so thick with tension he was sure he’d choke. “And I guess I wasn’t being the most careful with who knew it. Guy drugged and kidnapped me.” A self deprecating smile tugged at his lips and tears welled in his eyes. “I’m such an idiot.” He buried his face in his hands and shuddered, ready to break.   
  
Arms wrapped around and pulled him close. “Hey man. You’re alright now, that’s what matters.” They stayed like that until Nyma came in wheeling a hover dolly piled with crates. She saw them and immediately soured.   
  
“You’re fucking lucky we found you when we did,” she stated. “Guy’s a known trafficker. Whatever Galra he was turning you into would have thrown you to the soldiers.” She huffed and kicked at the dolly. “Rolo, don’t leave the cargo to me. Pull your weight.” Her brash and uncaring tone was welcoming to Lance. It grounded him better than the arms around him or the chest he was resting against. This was just another day for Nyma, not a daring rescue. She sneered openly and didn’t give him a shred of pity as she went. Rolo tried apologizing but Lance smiled and shook his head.   
  
It wasn’t necessary.   
  
Once they were loaded up and on their way, Rolo turned to Lance. “You want us to drop you off with your crew?”   
  
Lance shook his head.

  
The alien shrugged. “Suit yourself.”   
  
They lapsed into silence after that. As it built, Lance couldn’t help but wonder what the bounty hunters were up to. Last he knew they were looking for a score big enough to earn an easy life, not exactly the types to bust a trafficker for nothing but a few crates of worthless junk. If anything they had been adamant about keeping a low profile when they last met. He fidgeted as the silence stretched, questions rising to his tongue then dropping without mention. Nyma finally had enough and turned on him with a harsh, “What?!”   
  
He swallowed surprised. “Um... What... what have you been up to?”   
  
She frowned and clicked her tongue as she spun forward again. Rolo took over, smiling tiredly over his shoulder. “Believe it or not, we’ve been working with the Rebels as freelancers. Busting scum bags and being a general nuisance to anyone who supplies or tries to supply the Galra with unsavory items.” He grinned. “We have you to thank for the kick in the ass that started it.”   
  
Lance gave a shaky smile. “What do you do between jobs?”   
  
That promoted a shared look between the two aliens. Rolo once again spoke on their behalf. “Nyma moonlights in security and I help with a business that specializes in freeing and protecting trafficked goods and people. That’s usually where we get our intel as well.”    
  
“Protecting?”   
  
Seeing the interest on Lance’s face, Rolo smiled. “Yeah. And anonymity.”   
  
Lance turned the prospect over in his head. It felt bad to say he wasn’t all that interested in play the hero again, but it rang true. He had left Voltron, at first because he saw that he was the weakest link in the group—not that he wasn’t good, he was really fucking good at what he did, but he was the most expendable—and then because he was tired of the fight.    
  


He’d already sacrificed so much. 

  
He had died. He had legitimately died on a mission. And what resulted from that was a lasting scar. Traumatic Brain Injury. No one but Coran knew and he’d rather it stay that way. So far it hadn’t meant more than a few nasty migraines, but the threat of seizing during a fight was ever present. He may have been the better shot, the better strategist, but it would mean nothing if he had an episode in the field.   
  
So he left.   
  
And now Lance was contemplating the possibility of working under the protection of someone far more powerful than he. At least until he could save up for a ship that would get him to Earth. He sat forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Tell me more?”   
  
Rolo grinned.   
  
—   
  
“When I’m not stepping in to stop a slave trader, I work for Cascade. It’s a boutique for most, a brothel for others. They take in those looking for safety who are willing and able to work in various departments, though the main jobs are as sex workers. There’s a lot of bad in the universe and Cascade tries to be a force of good to combat it. Sex slaves and trafficked beings are saved and brought here to either be reintroduced to society or given a contract. No one is forced to do anything they’re uncomfortable with but there is an expectation that services rendered will be paid back in some way or another. I bring those Nyma and I save and for a room, meals, and information I work in the brothel.”   
  
Lance’s palms were clammy with sweat as he listened to Rolo. He was intrigued but also nervous. In his nervousness he gave a shaky smile and attempted to joke. “What as a recruiter?”   
  
Rolo laughed and scratched his nose. “Nah you’re a special case, Paladin.” He reclined back against his chair as he continued. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into if you decide to go down this route. Protection is one thing, protection as a paladin of Voltron is another. You’ll be expected to do more than a normal worker since the risk is greater.”   
  
He worried his bottom lip. “I’m not interested in prostitution.”   
  


Rolo nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He shrugged. “I can only guess at what they’d offer you but I don’t think they’d want to offer a former paladin up on a silver platter for the Galra to find from loose lipped patrons. If you offered to help with the people they save, you may end up being able to choose what you do.”   
  
“Choose?”   
  
“Yeah. For me it’s recordings. Short films that patrons can pay to watch. It’s convenient with my unpredictable schedule. If I’m out it doesn’t matter because there will be footage to post already in the queue. I also don’t have to deal with anyone outside of the business so it’s pretty safe.” He took on a serious expression after the explanation. “It’s not for everyone and I would never recommend it if you find or want an alternative. I’ve always been rather open with myself so it wasn’t a big deal for me.”   
  
Lance appreciated the honesty. Logic reared its head and he found himself wondering why he was even considering such a profession. Protection and helping innocents wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that he’d be sharing a very private part of himself with a galaxy of strangers. He was no blushing virgin but that didn’t mean he was interested in sex work.   
  
Then again... a cousin of his worked as a stripper and burlesque performer. When he turned eighteen, she’d dragged him to the joint she danced at and forced him on stage. Granted he was pretty drunk by that point but there was something about stripping and putting on a show that thrilled him. He had come alive under the applauding and cat calling with lights on him and dollar bills thrown at his feet. It was a memory he cherished. A sensation that in his darkest hours sent a thrill down his spine and yearning through his heart. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the performance.    
  
“I’ve stripped before.” His voice shook as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Rolo looked surprised. “It was only once but it was fun. I’ve always loved putting on shows and being the center of attention.” He grinned posing with a hand to his chin. “Shocker I know.” With a wink Lance felt his anxiety melt. The more he thought about it the more it made sense. Sure he could ask for alternatives, find something fairly easy even, but this was right here in his grasp. It was immediate. He wouldn’t be alone either. He and Rolo may not be friends but he trusted the guy. There was no way he couldn’t after he’d saved Lance and shared this with him. Besides what else would he do? He was a stranger to space travel, a stranger no matter where he went, and he had no clue what to avoid and how to dodge encounters like the one Rolo and Nyma rescued him from.    
  
And it was Right. Here. Being offered up to him on a silver platter.   
  
He could perform. If they asked for more, he even thought he might be able to work up to recordings so long as it was solo.    
  
Yeah this seemed... right.   
  
Rolo witnessed the change and smiled when Lance came back to himself. He sat straighter, a confident line to his shoulders, and held out a hand.    
  
“Looks like you’ve got a trainee, my dude.”   
  
Rolo took it and they shook to the sound of Nyma’s suffering sigh.   
  
—   
  
Keith still hadn’t told Pidge or Coran about his discovery. When Pidge woke and found them connected to an endless stream of information, they went starry eyed and fanatical. They forgot about Lance, about their mission, and instead dove head first into researching anything and everything they could think of. It was Christmas morning and Pidge was a five year old with a long wish list.   
  
When Coran gently reminded them, Pidge pulled back sheepishly. “Keith,” they said slightly embarrassed, “do you have the slip from Nyma?”   
  
His moment of reckoning. Does he go so far as to hide Lance from a rescue to grant him his privacy? What if it was forced? What if his situation wasn’t kind and what if the last thing he ever wanted was for the entire team to know? It was a moral quandary Keith wasn’t sure of. “Sorry. I tried it last night when I couldn’t sleep. Dead end.” He scratch his nose hoping the lie was believable. “My guess is it’s old information. Circumstances change.” Seeing Pidge’s eyes grow stormy he hurried to give another option. “But it should be no problem to find mention of him for you, right? Only human out here aside from us and there’s no way he hasn’t been recognized as a Paladin.”   
  
That struck a chord. Ego boosted Pidge nodded and got to work. “Of course! If he’s out there I’ll find him, it’s only a matter of time.”   
  
Coran was grinning cheering them on as he flitted around. “I will inform Allura and the others then! They’ll be delighted to hear there’s been progress.”   
  
Staring intently at the tablet in his hand, Keith made a decision. “Pidge are we connected through the Castle’s main server yet?”   
  
Already buried in research, they blinked slowly as they processed the question. “Not yet, but I’ll have that ready in a few hours. Right now the Tablet’s the only thing connected. Once the Castle is fully connected I’ll let you know.”   
  
He nodded. “Thanks. I want to chase down Nyma’s lead in person. See what I can find about it on the ground that might explain why it went cold.”   
  
“Sounds good.”   
  
—   
  
The others were back by the time Pidge gave the go ahead to Keith. He didn’t give them time to confront him, throwing the pack he’d put together into a pod and climbing in behind the controls. Shiro barely got out a “Keith wait—“ before he fired up the engine with a hand to his ear and questioning expression to Shiro. Sorry bud can’t hear you. Next time!   
  
Shiro did not look amused.   
  
If Keith brought Lance back, he wouldn’t need to explain. He set off with the coordinates of the brothel plugged in and determination hardening his resolve.   
  
Whatever happened he would get to the bottom of this.   
  
—   
  
Cascade was a lot nicer than Lance had expected. He was thinking a dingy low lit place with a sleazy and decadent atmosphere; Private curtained off areas and a runway style stage peppered with glitter and strip poles; a bar hidden in the shadows serving lecherous patrons and mostly nude waiters/waitresses.   
  
In reality it was much like that old movie Burlesque. Low lit in an intimate way rather than secretive with rich cherry wood-like furniture and clean comfortable booths covered in shiny vinyl upholstery. The patrons weren’t drooling masses losing it at the sight of scantily clad performers but reserved and attentive. They cat called and cheered on their entertainment without disgusting comments or attempts to touch those that were off limits. The stage was large with a set reminiscent of the Out Tonight scene from Rent with levels, a somewhat realized set, and poles on the main stage area. There was a catwalk but it was by far the least impressive bit of the club.    
  
The thing that seemed universal was the performers. Even though there were species from all over the known galaxy, some humanoid some not, they were familiar to Lance. Features accentuated by sparse coverings and makeup, dancing on the stage or walking the floor with trays of drinks; Looks and touches meant to entice their patrons into favorable tips. It filled Lance with assurance. He may not recognize species or customs but he knew how a strip club worked.   
  
It also helped that everyone who worked in the club looked content and happy. No hollow stares, no desperation to make ends meet, no sadness that permeated the club and hung like a stale weight in the air. Everyone was here because they wanted to be.   
  
Rolo squeezed Lance’s shoulder and he shook his head to clear it. He tried to smile but he was nervous and it came out shaky. Nyma made a beeline for the bar and his smile grew more genuine. Rolo smiled and led him to a table in a dark alcove. “Stay here and I’ll be back with the boss. Enjoy the show.”   
  
Then he was alone sitting in a booth with wide eyes taking in everything he could. He was entranced by the pole dancing, eyes never leaving the stage full of flexible attractive aliens, when Rolo returned with a tall gangly alien leading the way. Despite having limbs that seemed too long for their frame and a torso that was twice as large as their lower half they walked with an elegance and authority that made Lance sit up straight. They sat while Rolo remained standing, leaning against the wall that partially blocked their table from the rest of the club. Bright pink eyes studied the former paladin with an intensity Lance had never felt before and he tried not to squirm.

  
“For a Paladin of Voltron, you’re rather scrawny, aren’t you, son.” Lance’s face went red ready to defend himself but was waved off. “Just an observation. Rolo mentioned you’re in need of some help. Why would a Paladin of Voltron need or want help from a brothel? From what I have heard you’re a persistent and formidable group.”   
  
Lance glanced at Rolo who nodded in support. “I left Voltron.” It felt odd to say and suddenly he felt embarrassed. “I-uh-didn’t feel I was needed once we gained another pilot so I left. I wanted to go back home to our planet and galaxy, but ran into trouble.” He wrung his hands under the table, picking at his cuticles and resisting the urge to bite his nails. “I was recognized and captured in just a few days. Rolo saved me and told me I could work with protection here while I save up to buy a ship.”   
  
The alien opposite of him never moved their stare from his face. He fell silent waiting for a response and unsure of what to expect. Finally after what seemed like minutes they nodded. “That does pose a problem, doesn’t it.” They weren’t looking for an answer so Lance stayed silent. “I may be able to help, but I need to know what you’d be giving me in return.”   
  
He swallowed. Glanced at Rolo again then to the table. “I can help with... the victims you save. Whatever you need.”   
  
They hummed thoughtfully. “While that would be nice, it’s not the kind of payment I’m interested in.” Lance’s pulse raced. They were at this already? He had hoped to work up to it. “Rolo goes on camera for information, liberates goods and services from the scum of the galaxy with my help. You are far too well known for something as open as waiting on or servicing patrons like my usual employees. A higher risk requires a higher price.”   
  
It made sense but that didn’t make it easier to talk about. He had considered his options on the trip there, turning options over in his mind and asking Rolo for clarification on certain things. He had an idea of what he’d want to and would be able to do. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you believe is worthwhile.”   
  
“And what do you think that would be?” The question threw him and it was obvious on his face. “This kind of work isn’t something for the faint of heart. You must know exactly what you’re willing to do, what you’re willing to give up, to avoid problems. It’s best to get that out of the way before anything starts lest we run into compatibility issues.”   
  
The reassurance was strangely comforting. “I can dance. Strip even. And I wouldn’t mind... recording like Rolo does. I may need to work up to it but I think I’d enjoy it.” The admission sends his face aflame and he can sense Rolo’s surprised stare but he only had eyes for the alien before him.    
  
They laughed. Loud and sudden enough that it startled Lance. A grin stretched their green face. “Enjoy it, you say? Very well. We’ll start off small, get you trained and on rotation for the floor and stage this week while Rolo trains you for the camera. In a month we’ll start your channel. Until then, come up with a code name and I’ll have my tailor whip up something to obscure your face. Last thing I need is talk getting out about your appearance here.”   
  
A month? He inhaled to steady himself then held out his hand and the alien took it firmly. “My name is Liz. Welcome to my club, Paladin Lance.”   
  
—   
  
After their discussion, time went quickly. His training was concise and mostly learning by doing with moves and tips on what to do and how to act drilled into his head by a large wobbly woman with pink skin and blue teeth. He trained as he worked the floor until he was deemed decent enough to start rehearsing stage performances. Thanks to his cousins he had a good grasp on dancing from latin to hip hop and managed to pick up instruction fast. The only thing that stumped him really was the pole but a few weeks of grueling practice practice practice had him twirling like a veteran.    
  
Rolo started his lessons once Lance was confident in the main club, an excited grin brighter than his glistening sweat mixed with body glitter greeting his friend every time he checked in. It was awkward but Lance had lost the shame and embarrassment of stripping or moving salaciously around others so the awkwardness wasn’t discouraging. They started with lessons on camera and set setup. Then how to play to the camera which was a lot weirder than playing to a full room of people.    
  
Finally came the physical part of the show. He was so nervous the first time he touched himself while Rolo watched and instructed that he couldn’t even get hard. Rolo reassured him that it wouldn’t matter. He’d get used to it and even if the problem persisted, he’d still be enjoyed just from showing off his body. Determination steeled his resolve and he made a conscious effort to relax and enjoy the experience. They discovered that candles and low ambient lighting were the trick. It made the room cozy. Inviting. And most of all private.

  
Once he got over that initial hurdle, Lance fell into his new role without any further trouble. He was a natural here just as he was on the stage, basking in being the center of attention and even getting off on the thought of those that would watch but couldn’t touch.    
  
“Never took you for an exhibitionist.”   
  
Lance grinned and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”   
  
The first time Nyma brought in a group of victims Lance nearly lost his nerve. They looked so small and scared, huddling together and staring at him with wide terrified eyes. His heart ached.   
  
He helped them with a gentle smile and warm eyes, joking and flirting until they relaxed and one finally cracked a smile. Only two remained once the rest had left to start a better life. They lingered whenever he was near and he did his best to train and integrate them despite still being new himself. The effort was appreciated by his fellow workers and he could see the relief on their faces when the girls started opening up.   
  
Before long, Lance, The Blue Prince, became a prominent part of Cascade.    
  
His three month anniversary, when he officially ended training, was celebrated with copious amounts of alcohol, dancing, and laughter after hours. It was also when he drunkenly threw himself at Rolo who did nothing to discourage his sloppy kisses and frantic pawing. They rolled into bed desperately tugging off clothing with a single minded determination to get naked Now. Lance barely had time to think before he bottomed out with Rolo’s long legs over his shoulders and a flushed grin they shared. It was messy and uncoordinated but it was the best Lance could remember having.   
  
The next morning threatened to be all sorts of awkward. Lance woke with his head on Rolo’s chest and sweat sticking to his skin. Rolo didn’t let him over think it, smiling down and dragging him up to lay a soft kiss to his forehead. He grinned in return and moved to straddle the man’s hips. A little fingering, a lot of lube, and a condom later Lance was riding his friend into the bed.   
  
Lance was the one to suggest having an on camera physical relationship. Liz was delighted by the idea and they started immediately.

  
That’s where he found himself a year later, sucking Rolo’s dick on camera for anyone with enough GAC and a network connection to see. Usually he was unnecessarily lewd, playing up for the camera, staring coyly to the audience with a mischievous smile and doing everything in the most extra way he could think of. But now with the thought of the Voltron team possibly finding this, watching this, he felt reserved. Not quite shy but self conscious. His eyes were a bit wider, a bit hazier, and his smile came off as more of a grimace.   
  
When they were done he was already preparing for a lecture from Liz. He toweled off his face and swished mouth wash as she paced before him.    
  
“I don’t know what the hell happened, but that was awful, Lance. You have a live session tomorrow and this was supposed to promote it! People watch to see you enjoy others, not to watch a lost virgin fumble their way around a dick!” She stopped, turning to him with her arms crossed. “You’re lucky you looked innocent enough to be purposeful. Whatever’s going on, fix it. You’re on the pole for the rest of the evening.” She scoffed. “I don’t want you near a client until your live show.”   
  
Rolo was waiting for him backstage at his vanity after his shower. He had a placating smile on and was holding Lance’s outfit for the night in one hand. “Hey.”   
  
“Hey,” he bit out. Then sighed and flopped into his chair. “Sorry. Hi.” He looked at his reflection studying the bags under eyes and already pulling out foundation and concealer to begin application.    
  
“How bad was it?” Lance grimaced and Rolo frowned sympatheticly. “That bad.”   
  
The former paladin shrugged, moving on to eyebrows and then eyeshadow, trying to mimic the pallet of his outfit. The outfit for the routine was fairly simple. Baggy tear off pants made of a material that shifted with rainbows like the holo nail polish his younger sister always wore with a black cropped mesh top and a snapback made of the same material as the pants. Because holo makeup simply did not exist, he slapped on black smokey eyes and a pink iridescent duo chrome highlight to his cheeks. His lips were fine with gloss and all that was left was mascara and falsies.    
  
His outfits and makeup were always much more involved for the stage than his videos and he was happy for it today. The routine gave him a chance to calm down, put his thoughts in order, and collect himself. It was familiar and relaxing and by the time he finished he was smiling easily.    
  
“It wasn’t great. I have a feeling she’ll be giving me the largest dildo that I can take for my next session. Hopefully she’ll have mercy and not tie me up as well.” Lance smirked. “I know which you’ll be rooting for but may I remind you how handsy I got after our last bondage session? Had to make up for lost time.”   
  
Rolo snort laughed and shoved the hat onto Lance’s head who squawked. “Yeah yeah, lover boy. You know you love being tied up.”   
  
Lance huffed. “Only with you around.” He stood to shove his briefs down and replace them with a black sparkly speedo. “Chenya always steals the spotlight and Grave has no clue how to play to the camera. He’s good eye candy but not much else.” He turned back to Rolo with big pleading eyes. “You’re the only one who gets me, Rolo. Never leave me to these uninspired heathens.”   
  
Chenya, a very large breasted humanoid with four arms and a large base, rolled her eyes as she passed. “You’re just a terrible partner, Blue.”   
  
“Back atcha!” Lance yelled only to receive a rude gesture in return. He shook his head. “Whatever. It won’t happen again. Just... it’s weird thinking they’re out there. Possibly watching me. Knowing what I’ve been doing and with who.” He curled into   
himself, arms crossed.    
  
Rolo threw an arm around Lance’s shoulders drawing him in to his chest. “No matter what they think or what they know, you know who you are. You know what you are.” His large hand upset the hat so he could stroke the human’s head in comfort. “You’re a good person, Lance. Nothing changes that. You have pride in your work. No one can take that away. Not even Voltron.”   
  
Lance nodded and moved away after a moment. The stage hand for the night, Monixia, waved a five minute warning and he smiled up at Rolo. “Thanks man. I’ve been lucky to have you.” He yanked the alien down for a quick kiss and then shoved him away with a laugh. He jogged up to the stage and winked back to which Rolo responded with a saucy grin. Confidence again filled the former paladin, pushing out the doubts and fears and replacing them with a pride that had him shining on stage.   
  
—   
  
Keith had his tablet in one hand and a tracker in the other, switching between holoscreens as he weaved through the throng of pedestrians that populated the strip. Shops and restaurants lined a wide road built practically on top of each other with very little space for shoving ahead of the pack. He jostled and was jostled in turn, aggravation climbing with every shoulder or elbow that stabbed into him until finally he saw what he was looking for.    
  
Or more accurately saw his tracker light up with directions into a dark alley showing the club he’d marked down was just ahead. He stared into the shadows and hoped it wasn’t as seedy as it looked. If it were, the guilt from leaving Lance to his fate for so long would gnaw at him from this day onward. He took a shaky breath and ducked into the alley trying to stay calm as everything faded into a darkness that lingered heavily.    
  
Dumpsters crowded the path along with planks of wood and trash that was littered about. It seemed like an alley that was meant to be used but despite the evidence it felt empty. As if no one would dare enter the alley without the express permission of whatever lay at the end. He was on edge the entire trip, bayard in hand and eyes darting wildly looking for any threat. As he neared the end however it lightened. Still no natural light but there were lanterns hung above on strings that stretched from building to building leading the way to a set of stairs that went down under a sturdy brick building book ending the alley. The stairs gave way to a small courtyard with other paths leading into it. There were decorative plants and a well maintained fountain in the center and beyond that was a set of double doors painted red with a pink sconce providing light beside it.    
  
In contrast to the alley, this alcove felt welcoming. It drew him in, pulling at his limbs until he stood with a hand on the door. He braced himself.    
  
The door swung open and he was stopped dead in his tracks by the unexpected sight. It was a nice club. Clean and Warm. All natural woods and floating lanterns. Inviting in a way a strip club or sex club shouldn’t feel. The people who walked around holding trays laughed and smiled freely. The clients weren’t the scum of the earth, they were businessmen, elegant women, polite in their words and actions. Towards the front was a stage where dancers twirled and gyrated to the upbeat music and Keith nearly lost his head when the dancer in the middle with a mask hiding the bottom half of his face looked out across the crowd and gave an exaggerated wink as he slid on his knees to the cat walk. He braced his arm behind him and pelvic thrusted his other hand snaking its way down to his crotch.    
  
He was graceful. He was shining.   
  
He was unmistakably Lance McClain.   
  
Keith’s wide eyed frozen stance was broken by a large hand descending on to his shoulder and yanking him away from the door towards the bar hidden in a low lit corner. He struggled, knocking the hand off and ready to defend himself until he saw the familiar face of Rolo, a bounty hunter than had aided in the stealing of the Blue Lion years ago. The shock of seeing him was even greater than recognizing Lance.   
  
“Don’t say anything.” His jaw snapped shut. Rolo glanced around and reached out to pull Keith’s hood down lower over his face. Irritated and confused Keith slapped his hands away and broke out of his stupor enough to grab the alien by his shirt and shove him violently against the wall.    
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Rolo   
for his part didn’t look threatened in the least. Instead he had his hands up and a placating smile on his face.   
  
“Easy there, Red.” The familiarity had Keith tightening his grip. Rolo flinched. “Sorry sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you but I couldn’t let you be seen.”   
  
Keith loosened his grip confusion once again coloring his face. “Why?”   
  
Rolo shrugged. “Everyone knows the Paladins of Voltron. If you got found here you likely wouldn’t leave.” He paused working out his next approach. “Also if Lance caught you, he’d fuck up his routine and that’s the last thing he needs right now.”   
  
That cleared up nothing and Keith glared hard at Rolo before letting him go. “What do you mean?”   
  
He straightened his shirt as he explained. “He’s already in hot water for being distracted during a session earlier. Not only that but he’s nervous enough thinking about you Paladins finding him online. If he saw you actually here he’d freak out and I can’t allow that.”    
  
Keith’s brow furrowed. “Freak out? Why the hell would he do that? He should be happy to see me—us. See us. Get away from this place and—“ His glare came back full force, “—you. Why are you here anyways? Why the hell would you let them use Lance like this? Like—like his channel?” Anger flared as it sunk in that Rolo was indeed here, knowledgeable of Lance’s activities, and making no effort to protect him except from Keith.   
  
Rolo’s smile dropped giving Keith a sour look. “Let them? I don’t let anyone do anything. Believe it or not Lance is very happy here and does what he does with pride and enjoyment.”   
  
That didn’t make sense. “How could he?” Keith rubbed at his temple trying to work through the information that had been dropped on him so suddenly all at once. And then incredulous, “What the hell do you have to do with anything? You’re talking like you have authority on Lance.”   
  
His frustration was mirrored in Rolo as he continued to question the other. “I offered him protection from bounty hunters and a stable job. Everything else was up to him. Would you like to see him or not?”   
  
It still didn’t make sense, turning in Keith’s mind as he tried to rationalize it all. In the end he nodded reluctantly. Rolo seemed relieved, relaxing again and tugging Keith’s hood once more for good measure before grabbing his arm and pulling him through a door to the left of the bar.    
  
A set of stairs led to a hall of apartments above the club. They were small and cramped but they had kitchens, full bathroom and a bedroom that doubled as a living space. The one Rolo dragged him into was covered in blue and beige. There were thin beige curtains over the window above a full sized bed situated on an old frame that looked ready to give out. A coffee table surrounded by thick floor pillows hinted at the living area but other than that the room was sparse. Clean. It looked barely lived in. Keith stood in the door feeling like an intruder. Rolo shoved him forward.    
  
“You can wait here,” he said with an air of exasperation. “Lance’s shift ends soon and I’d like to warn him so if you don’t mind I’m going to split.” He didn’t give the other a chance to respond, door swinging shut behind him leaving Keith to look around with wonder.   
  
Then Keith was alone. Lost and unsure of what to expect. He was in uncharted territory. Everything he thought he knew was thrown out the window. He sat heavily on the the bed with his head in his hands trying to make sense of the situation he’d stumbled upon.   
  
It must have been an hour before the door creaked open. It had been long enough that Keith’s neck and shoulders grew sore from his position and the light outside had faded plunging him into darkness. Footsteps approached him—Soft, slow and purposeful—until fuzzy blue slippers appeared in his line of sight. He didn’t look   
up until the bed dipped beside him.   
  
When he did, Lance sat there, quiet, nervous. Fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. One of his legs was pulled up resting on his other knee showing the plush shorts he wore riding up. He waited, not even looking at Keith.   
  
Finally Keith spoke. “I’ve been turning this over and over in my head, trying to figure out why you’re here, why you never contacted us, not even to say you were fine. Wondering what we did wrong. Wondering...” He pursed his lips. “I can’t figure it out. How can you...”   
  
“Have sex on camera and strip for others in an alien brothel? Instead of fighting for the freedom of the Universe with my friends and the only other humans this side of the Milky Way?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to make sense. If there’s anything I’ve learned this year life rarely does.”   
  
Keith glanced up at him, taking in the familiar profile lit by the moon light filtering in between the blinds. He looked the same. Moles dotted his face like constellations; his hair was artfully ruffled, framing his face attractively; his lips full, his nose strong and straight. There was a faded scar that tugged at his eyelid, a long healed wound from a training accident on the Castle, and another that edged his hairline, hidden by his locks. It was new, pink. Lance’s eyes were trained forward but Keith could see a confidence in them. It was more sure than the cocky persona he’d put on to cover his insecurities, as if it was now fully realized. So much was the same.   
  
It all felt different though.   
  
“Have you told the others about me?”    
  
Keith shook his head and Lance seemed to deflate in relief. “I was hoping to talk to you first. Find out the situation before jumping to any conclusions.”   
  
Lance smiled and finally caught Keith’s eyes. His gaze was unwavering and intense. “Like you did?”   
  
He flushed and despite himself he smiled back. “Do you blame me?”   
  
“I guess not.” Lance scratched at his cheek and Keith was thrown back to the Castle a year ago. Nervous ticks that accompanied deep late night conversations. A sharing of secrets in an attempt to bond that brought them from rivals to friends. His chest squeezed painfully tight. “I know what it looks like, but I need you to know I’m here of my own volition. I do what I do because I want to. Because I’m actually really good at it.”    
  
It was hard to argue with Lance sitting beside him, dripping sincerity with every word. It had been easy to blame Rolo, to say he was wrong, but Lance was so genuine and honest it made Keith question the Lance he thought he had known. He still wanted to fight. Still felt anger and frustration thrumming under his skin. He flexed his fingers and took a deep breath to quell it.    
  
“I can accept that.” He finally admitted. “But... why did you have to leave us?”   
  
The question was expected but the wording surprised Lance. He stared wide eyed at Keith. Keith for his part felt his throat swell with barely withheld emotion.    
  
“I get why you left Voltron, or I think I do, but you also left us. You left your friends, your family... you left me. Without a word. You were there one minute then gone the next.” He had to blink as his eyes watered. “What did we do that you felt you had to run away?”   
  
Lance for his part seemed off kilter at the question. “I didn’t... I didn’t think of it that way.” And he really hadn’t. This entire time it had been about leaving Voltron, leaving a war he had no place in. He had never once thought about the fact that it wasn’t just Voltron he was leaving behind. Even when he missed his friends to the point of sleepless nights and never ending tears, he still considered it a necessary move for Voltron’s success. How fucking inconsiderate and stupid could he be? “I left because I wasn’t needed. Voltron had enough Paladins and even as good as I was, I paled in comparison to you all.” He paused to turn over the thoughts in his head.    
  
“If I had stayed,” he spoke slowly, figuring out what he wanted to say as he went, “it would have been painful. If not for me then for whoever took my place on the side lines. I would have left eventually.”   
  
Keith hated that he understood. If it had been him, he’d have left as well. But it wasn’t him. He felt unremarkable next to Lance when they had finally fit together and he seemed to always fall short of expectations, especially with Shiro, but he’d never been so insecure and defeated that he’d thought himself expendable in the way Lance did. Was that really a shock though? From what he remembered and from what Lance had shared on those sleepless nights among the stars the man had never been enough in the eyes of others. He was a middle child in a large family, barely scraped by at the Garrison, was constantly compared to his siblings and Keith, and judged himself in that same harsh light.   
  
It was no wonder he had thrived here. He was the center of attention, the main attraction. He captivated audiences all around this part of the Galaxy and he did it on his own with no one to share the spotlight.    
  
“Why didn’t you—“   
  
“Say something?” Lance gave him a tired smile. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem important in the grand scheme of things.” He picked at his shorts. “I honestly didn’t mean to disappear on you though. It just happened.” He shrugged again, his sweater slipping off a toned shoulder. “I was hoping to head to Earth. Give home a heads up to the Empire’s imminent threat, help Sam Holt, ready things for Voltron.” He frowned as he remembered that first week alone. He had been hopeful. Naive. “I was so used to how convenient and advanced the Castle and Voltron were that I wasn’t prepared for being without. I clawed my way to prosperity after I was captured and nearly sold to the Galra. This place,” he gestured with his arms wide open, “gave me protection. It gave me a purpose, and not just as a performer.” His eyes sparked as he turned fully towards Keith, a wide smile on his lips. “I help people here. People that aren’t just suffering from the Galra, but from other forces. Drug trade, Sex trafficking, you name it, we stop it. Or well Nyma and Rolo stop it. I help those that take refuge here.” A shadow fell across his features. “Those even Voltron can’t save.”   
  
He wanted to argue, to tell Lance that he’d be doing better as apart of Voltron, that he’d be fulfilled saving entire planets and people rather than a few stragglers, but he couldn’t. How could Keith claim what they were doing was more important that what Lance had spent his year working on. There was always the argument of saving the Many at the cost of the Few, but did that really apply here?   
  
What Lance was doing may not have been flashy, but it was important. Possibly more so even. He was making sure there was a people for Voltron to save; a universe worth saving. And fuck if it didn’t agree with him. He was brighter here than Keith had ever seen him. His body was all toned muscle and a healthy glow, his demeanor genuinely happy, and there was a light in his eyes he had only ever seen when they successfully rescued a planet or people.   
  
He looked... good.   
  
Keith smiled and shook his head. “You’re such a fucking sap.”   
  
Lance relaxed at the familiar admonishment, recognizing it as the acceptance he was desperate for. “What can I say? These looks gotta be good for something right?” He waggled his brows and Keith laughed in the familiarity.    
  
He pressed his palms to his eyes as they overflowed. He was so relieved at having found Lance, that Lance was healthy and happy and free, that he couldn’t keep it in. He had been so afraid of what he would find on this side of the computer.   
  
Lance gave him his moment, standing and moving to the kitchen to grab a water and beer. He tapped the bottle to Keith’s hand and Keith took it with a quiet thanks as he gathered himself.    
  
“I don’t mind you staying the night, but I really need to shower.” The suffocating weight their conversation left eased as Lance brought them back to the present. “I am literally covered in glitter and oil and if I don’t scrub it off before it dries, it’ll be there for the next cycle.”   
  
He grinned and Keith snorted. Keith took a   
swing of the beer and waved Lance away. “Don’t let me keep you, loverboy.” He paused as the hilarity of the situation hit him. “God that’s not even a euphemism anymore. It’s just fact.”   
  
Lance’s laugh followed him into the bathroom.   
  
Keith stared at the door for a moment trying to collect his thoughts and the information he’d learned from the night. It had been... a lot. He sighed and typed out a quick message to Pidge that he’d found a lead and was chasing it. Pidge’s response was lost as exhaustion hit him and he fell back on to the bed. He only moved when Lance squirmed under the covers and shoved him closer to the wall. They fell asleep like that, sprawled out and invading each other’s space, a physical representation of their night.   
  
—   
  
Keith woke to Lance groaning loudly as he rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow. His brow was furrowed with sweat clinging to his skin and his breathing was labored, struggling to take in a steady breath and follow it with an exhale. Keith was instantly on guard. He may have been absent for over a year, but he’d never seen Lance curl up with a pain gasp like he did when Keith sat up.    
  
“Lance? Lance what’s wrong?” He was frantic. They’d just found Lance, he couldn’t lose him again to some mysterious illness.    
  
Lance groaned and mumbled into the pillow.   
  
“What? I can’t understand you.”   
  
“Shhhhhhshhshhh...” That was as coherent as a response he was going to get until Lance unfurled an arm to sleepily slap at his nightstand. “Phone.” He knocked against the object and caught it before it could fall, shoving it against his ear and commanding it to call Rolo. After a moment of Keith fretting, Lance finally spoke again. “Ey. Migraine.” And dramatically, “I’m dyyying, Rolo.” A pause and then another whine. “Fiiiine. But don’t let that bitch Hannah mess up my bed. Last time she left a messy gooey mess and it was gross.” He lazily slammed the phone back on it’s receiver and was curling up when he touched Keith and jolted back in surprise. “Fuck!”   
  
Keith jolted in surprise as well. Lance’s eyes squinted up at him seemingly uncomprehending before recognition dawned. “Oh.”   
  
“Oh?” That was understated.    
  
“Oh.” They stared at each other before Lance buried his face back into the pillow. “Rolo’ll collect you soon. Use what you need to get ready or whatever. Ask him to give you a tour or something. Mi casa es su casa. Por ahora.”    
  
“What’s wrong? You don’t look good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so pale.” Lance snorted and blearily glared at him.   
  
“Such a charmer.” He sniffed. “It’s a migraine. Should be gone in a few hours. Alien drugs are fucking amazing, my dude.” The last bit was muffled by the pillow but Keith decided to leave it be in favor of grabbing a shower and leaving Lance to rest. When he exited the bathroom Rolo was there sitting on the edge of the bed with an empty syringe and a gentle hand moving Lance’s bangs away from his face. It seemed like a private moment so he turned away and blocked them out as he toweled his hair dry.   
  
Rolo didn’t seem to care however as he greeted Keith from the bed. “Hey Red. Grab your shoes and I’ll show you around the operation here.” Lance’s face relaxed from its pained expression into sleep and Keith wondered at the alien drug he’d mentioned. He didn’t comment instead focusing on doing as instructed.   
  
Once they were in the hall he didn’t hesitate to ask. “Is that normal?”   
  
The alien gave him an exhausted glance. “Unfortunately. A side effect of his injuries from Voltron. Usually it’s just a headache and some confusion, but sometimes it's worse, migraines, nausea and, if it’s really bad, a minor seizure.” The information was presented in such a matter of fact tone the actual content didn’t register at first. When it did Keith’s eyes widened.    
  
“What kind of injury—“   
  
“Traumatic Brain Injury.” The answer was so quick it dawned on Keith that Rolo had been prepared to have this conversation. “From repeated head trauma and probably to do with dying for several minutes at one point.”    
  
Dying? Keith vaguely recalled Allura mentioning having to “bring Lance back” but he didn’t think of it as so serious at the time. It dawned on him that Lance’s condition was probably a contributing factor to his leaving Voltron and suddenly any remaining bitterness from his departure vanished. Come to think of it, Lance had quite a few near death experiences, more so than any of the other Paladins except maybe Shiro. Fuck no wonder he left.   
  
Rolo seemed to sense his shock and had mercy on him. “It didn’t present until a month into his time here. He thought it was just migraines from the elevated radiation in space until he had a seizure. Luckily Cascade takes care of its employees and got Lance seen to. The medication he takes isn’t exactly legal, but it’s safe enough and gets him back on his feet.”   
  
Keith was skeptical at that but let it go,   
instead switching to meaningless chatter and questions about Lance’s time here. Obviously Rolo didn’t share everything, reminding Keith that Lance would rather do so himself, but he gave him an idea of how Lance was and what Lance did in the club. He was more involved than he had lead on the night before. It made Keith fill with pride in his friend. He really was making a difference. When Rolo was finished with the tour of Cascade’s community driven areas he took Keith to the club. It was just as warm and welcoming as it had been the night before though the morning crowd mostly seemed to be seated in booths enjoying breakfast with a waiter or two keeping them company. The stage was empty and closed off by a heavy red curtain and the bar was taken over by a bountiful breakfast buffet that client and employees helped themselves to.    
  
“Those of us with our own fully equipped apartments are able to make our own meals or have ones delivered to us but everyone else is welcome to the buffet and kitchen here. No one goes hungry unless they really piss off management.” He smiled his usual lazy smile. Keith found it odd how Rolo seemed unchanged by his new profession. The changes Lance went through were striking and hard to ignore but Rolo looked and behaved exactly as he had before. It was as comforting as it was unsettling.    
  
Keith listened with half an ear as he was led through the club. A floor of private rooms for their prostitutes and clients, another floor for cam footage and more elaborate pornography, a backstage area of changing rooms and vanities, private booths cordoned off with thin silk curtains for private dances, and of course the main floor he had already seen the night before. It was underwhelming how normal the club seemed. Elegant sure but nothing spectacular. In fact the only thing that made it seem so exclusive was the boutique he found out was in the building above the club but below the apartments. The way he found the club was unusual and only due to Pidge’s tinkering. Most people came through the boutique on the ground floor with only the elite being allowed access to the doors he had come in through. Other than that it was painfully predictable.   
  
Then again he hadn’t seen their world famous acts the website had bragged about which included one certain former paladin.   
  
It was while they were loading up on lunch from the buffet after the tour that Keith got a look into Lance’s life at the club. As soon as the other entered the area the clients and waiters flocked to him, all wishing him well and vying for him to dine with them. He smiled at them all and politely declined, eyes zeroing in on Rolo and Keith. He looked better even if he was still paler than normal, a skip in his step and grin splitting his face. During his off hours he didn’t dress vastly different to what he wore while working; a cropped hooded tank matched with low hanging harem pants, tight in his calves but loose around his thighs, and black high top sneakers made of the same black material as his snapback. Keith tried to ignore the waist band of his underwear peeking out above his pants but no one else seemed to care.   
  
This was a normal site to them.   
  
He was almost jealous.   
  
“What’s on the menu today, my darling wonderful bar tender?” He batted his eyelashes and blew the beastly woman behind the buffet a kiss. She chuffed and shoved a plate towards the man.    
  
“Flirting won’t make it any better, Blue. Sloppy Joes, as you so call them.”    
  
Lance crowed excitedly and snatched up his plate. Sitting between the isle and Keith, he wasted no time in chowing down. Keith found himself watching fondly as he made an absolute mess of his face, occasionally wiping with a napkin. A lot may have changed but this was the same Lance that had challenged him to a goo eating contest in month one on the Castle. Not even waiting to swallow, Lance looked up at Rolo and then Keith. “How was the tour? Did Rolo,” he swallowed, “bore you to tears?”   
  
Keith grimaced. “Close your mouth while you eat.”   
  
Rolo snorted.   
  
Lance huffed but made a point of chewing, swallowing, and then talking. “You two are just like my Mama. We’re at a brothel, I don’t think manners are high priority.”   
  
“Says the guy who gets offended by the use of “tu” rather than “usted.”” Keith chimed in to Lance’s utter betrayal and Rolo’s amusement.   
  
“Fine. Be that way. See if either of you get a chance at the tamales I was going to make for dinner.” He sniffed offended and took another bite. The sauce on his nose and cheek ruined his attempt at a threat instead making him look like a pouting child. It warmed Keith’s heart to see and once again he was struck with how abnormal all of this was.   
  
He was in a sex club, eating with a bounty hunter and his former partner who both work at said sex club as camboys and strippers. A situation he never would have guessed at. His smile turned to a frown as he thought of his team waiting for him to check in and desperately searching for Lance who he had found.   
  
What was he going to tell them?   
  
His silent brooding didn’t escape notice and Lance elbowed him to get his attention. “Hey. No brooding at the lunch table. Brood later.”   
  
“I’m not brooding,” Keith argued.   
  
Lance side eyed him. “You totally are.” A beat and then more serious, “If you need to call them, do so. I’ve got practice soon.” He hesitated. “You can watch if you want.”   
  
That he gave his permission to bring the others into his life here was unexpected. That Keith dreaded the idea of sharing this Lance with them was not. He greedily wanted to keep him to himself, all long legs and firm abs with a killer smile and incredible moves. He knew eventually he’d have to tell the rest of Voltron, but for now he wanted to be selfish. After the practice he’d contact them.    
  
Promise.   
  
—   
  
The beat started slow. Meandering. Like a whisper that echoed in a silent room. Keith recognized the song, an old Earth tune, Fake Smiles by Phora. It was jarring to hear the dulcet tones but he stared at the stage curious to see what would come of it. Lance’s body moved with the rhythm, rolling and stretching out for the notes and bringing it back in as the lyrics demanded. It was less stripping, more like jazz or ballet with the poignant movements and a desperation that built with the song. He artfully divested his pants, leaving him in what Keith had thought were briefs but were actually workout shorts, and reached out for the pole. Keith was entranced by the way he swung himself around and then up on it, muscles flexing under the lights. His face was lost to the music, concentration lining his brow giving way to raw emotion as the intensity changed.    
  
It wasn’t just a show, it was Lance opening up and sharing a piece of himself with the world. Letting the audience peek his secrets and vulnerabilities for a short moment. A connection established with fleeting eye contact and parted lips. A slow roll and then a snap of the hips. Arms above him, on him, shoving his shirt aside and then caressing the pole before mounting it again.    
  
Keith felt as if he were glimpsing something not meant for him.    
  
Fuck but Lance wasn’t kidding when he said he was good. The song trailed off and Lance slowly slipped to the ground, head bowed. As the music cut off, it was like a switch had been flipped and the Lance of the performance was replaced by the exuberant Lance Keith was used to. The spell was broken and Keith crashed back to reality. Lance grinned and wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke with two other male looking aliens in similar work out wear. When the music started again, it was with Lance on the sidelines coaching the other two.    
  
“He’s captivating, isn’t he.” Keith had forgotten about Rolo and jumped in his seat startled.    
  
“Yeah,” he said in a daze, “he is.” He’d always been. When Lance spoke he had the attention of whoever was around him, reluctantly or not. In battle his directions and ferocity to protect his fellow teammates inspired them to work harder, be better. His mere presence was larger than life, demanding respect and forcing himself to relevancy. It made sense it would translate to his new profession. Hell Keith had already known that to be the case from all that he’d learned in the past day.   
  
Still it took his breath away.   
  
—   
  
“I took your departure personally. I don’t know why, I just... did. More than anyone else.” Keith was speaking to a fold out partition as Lance busied himself behind it, trying on outfits that could barely be called outfits and more closely resembled lingerie. They varied from very feminine to quite masculine and Lance seemed to have no preference as he looked over one and tossed the other. He apparently had a scene to shoot that day which made Keith... uncomfortable. But he’d vowed not to judge and just as he’d been assured, Lance seemed not only ok but excited for it. So he reserved his reaction for Lance’s empty apartment.    
  
Lance laughed. “Of course you did. Lance and Keith, neck to neck, remember? Hard to compete with someone who’s not there.”   
  
It made sense but it didn’t ring true. “I don’t know. Not having to deal with your obnoxious rivalry was one of the few positives.” This elicited a grunt of disbelief and a lacy thong thrown expertly to land on Keith’s head. He snatched it up and tossed it on the pile with a sneer.    
  
“As if. Without me I bet you were totally lost outside of battle. Brooding and moping around the Castle with no idea how to socialize like a normal person.”   
  
He wasn’t wrong. It had taken a while before he’d learned to fit in with their little family. Shiro was easy, he already knew Keith better than even Keith knew himself so he required no work at all. Hunk even managed as someone who also struggled with social interactions. Pidge, Allura, and Coran however were a different story. Pidge had made him feel small and dumb in the beginning. It took time for them to become comfortable with each other, eventually bonding over their shared experience after Kerberos went missing and becoming closer with hand to hand training and a prank war or two with Coran. Which was how Keith and Coran bonded. He was surprisingly,   
or not so surprisingly, wise behind his ridiculous jokes and personality. He often lent an ear for Keith’s musings and always seemed to have some kind of remedy for whatever was bothering the young man. He was like the Uncle Keith had never had or wanted.   
  
Allura, however, remained allusive. No matter how hard they tried, neither could bridge the gap from colleague to friend. It didn’t help that Keith was half Galra or that Allura was piloting Blue. There was this giant space between them that seemed impossible to breach.    
  
Maybe if Lance had stayed, it wouldn’t be a problem.    
  
He’d been quiet too long. Lance popped his head around the corner with curiosity to which Keith tried to shrug off. “It’d be a lot easier if you were there.”   
  
Lance stilled. Then went back to changing. Neither said anything further until Lance finally picked an outfit and stepped out. He’d chosen to go with a silk kimono robe with an elegant flower print that snaked its way from the bottom to just below the shoulders. Underneath was simple black briefs and three necklaces that layered attractively down his chest. This was also the first time Keith had seen Lance mostly bare since he’d arrived and oh boy.   
  
His muscles really were more defined under the neatly groomed chest hair.   
  
Also matching his pierced ears were his pierced nipples. All adorned with blue studs. “Well?” He asked striking a confident pose against the frame of the partition. “How do I look? Delectable?”   
  
Despite the jovial quality, apprehension was clear in his eyes. Keith had to consciously tear his eyes away from the man’s chest to stare almost dumbly at his face. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “You look good.”   
  
Lance grinned. “Of course I do.” Then he grew serious and cinched the robe closed. “You don’t have to be here for this.” He offered. “Stripping is one thing. Having sex on camera is another and I don’t expect you to be comfortable or even approving of it.” His face grew red and he backtracked. “Not that you’ll be in the room or anything! No free shows ya know? Just... in general. You don’t have to wait for me. Or be here. Or—“   
  
“I want to see.” The words left his mouth before he had time to think them over. His jaw clicked shut and he stared with wide eyes and a red face.    
  
Lance echoed his shock and embarrassment. “Oh!” He said unsure of how to proceed. “Oh.”   
  
“Unless that’s not ok with you!”   
  
“Oh no it’s fine! I’m fine!”   
  
“Ok.”   
  
“Ok.”   
  
An awkward silence descended, broken only by Lance laughing. “This is weird.”   
  
Keith hesitantly smiled back. “A little bit, yeah.”   
  
They smiled at each other and Lance shrugged. “There’s a viewing room in the brothel. Some people come here to watch but no one except performers are allowed in the actual rooms. They’re private cubicles with a tablet set up in each.” He grabbed Keith’s hand and after a moment of searching wrote two lines on his palm. “Here’s the code and password. It’s my account so you won't have to pay.” Despite the awkward situation, Lance seemed excited for Keith to watch. It was endearing until Keith remembered just how wildly inappropriate this whole situation was.    
  
Lance worried his bottom lip. “I know it’s weird, but I’m... really happy you want to see what I do. I love my job and I’m glad you’re willing to... try.” He smiles and Keith’s hand burns. “Don’t feel obligated though. If it gets too weird for you, you don’t have to watch.”   
  
Instead of quietly agreeing, Keith smirked. “I watched a few clips before I came here. I think my delicate disposition will survive.”   
  
The sarcasm seemed to ease the tension and Lance was back to grinning and laughing. “Oh my God you pervert!” He swatted at Keith’s arm and Keith rolled his eyes.    
  
And so Keith found himself staring at a monitor in a private cubicle with Lance’s log in info typed into the proper fields and headphones securely over his ears. With a deep breath he clicked enter and watched as the screen was taken over by a feed that read LIVE.   
  
There was Lance. From several different angles with the main footage switching between which camera was relevant in a larger window. He was flushed and hard already, sweat slick on his skin. His arms were held above his head in padded cuffs attached to the iron headboard and his chest was heaving with breathes and needy noises. There were two others with him but they weren’t fully on camera. Instead it focused on Lance as he stared up half lidded and smiling at the camera,   
playing to it with a delicate arch of his back. One of the others got close, purple alien dick larger than a human’s average as the other stayed back, waiting with a hand absently stroking their smaller but much more textured dick. Was Lance expected to take them both? Keith hoped not. It didn’t seem possible even if Lance looked like he was gagging for it already.    
  
The feed blurred and ran together after that. Keith vaguely thought that he should turn it off, step away. He was clearly overwhelmed, but why?   
  
He had no problem with what Lance was doing. None at all. In fact watching Lance’s lips stretch as his mouth was fucked and his thighs tremble which each thrust to his ass sent a pleasant tingle through Keith. Seeing Lance theatrical, desperate in a whole new way, smiling lewdly and making noises that had to be played up had the red paladin racing to a realization that rocked him to his core.    
  
It hit him then as Rolo—it had to be Rolo—came on Lance’s thighs, on his ass, as the other emptied himself on Lance’s waiting face that he wanted that. He wanted to be them. He wanted to be the pole that Lance had danced on. He wanted to be the one to take care of Lance during a migraine. He wanted to be the reason Lance smiled, the reason he gasped in need, the reason he danced with such punishing emotion.    
  
Keith wanted Lance back with Voltron not because he thought Lance belonged there, but because Lance belonged with him.   
  
He yanked the headphones off and stumbled out of the viewing area, back to the main club. He couldn’t see, couldn’t speak. He wandered until he was back on the street getting lost in the throng of people ever moving never stopping. He was shaken, the ground falling out from under him until all that was left was the realization that would break him.   
  
Keith wanted Lance.   
  
No. Keith didn’t just want Lance. He had significant feelings for Lance.    
  
It was too little too late. Lance had left. Lance had found himself. Lance wasn’t for him. Lance belonged to his audience, to the club, to the bodies that needed help and protection from the cruelty Voltron couldn’t fight. He belonged to Rolo and Nyma. He belonged to Earth.    
  
He couldn’t be Keith’s and Keith would never force it. He saw how much Lance’s work meant to him. He saw how much happier he was in the club. He couldn’t take that away.   
  
Keith trudged without purpose. He didn’t stop until his feet hurt and his shoulders were sore from the onslaught of pedestrians. He slid into an alley and down against a wall until he was on the ground staring unseeing at the clouds in the sky. Eventually he’d return to the club and apologize. Say his goodbyes. Give his well wishes. Eventually he’d have to face Lance and pretend his world hadn’t imploded.    
  
Eventually.   
  
“Dios Mio, idiota. What the hell are you doing?” Lance towered over him, blocking the Sun and bringing an abrupt halt to Keith’s panic attack. “I knew that was too much. I’m sorry, Keith. I’m really really sorry.” He knelt before the paladin, hesitant hands hovering over Keith’s knees before they aborted the motion. He pushed himself against the wall opposite Keith and waited. “I understand if you uh hate me or whatever. If you’re disgusted.” He looked so stricken, Keith almost laughed.    
  
“I wasn’t.”    
  
Lance’s head jerked up, eyes wide.   
  
“I wasn’t disgusted. I don’t hate you.”    
  
“Then why?” His voice cracked and Keith felt hysterical. “Why did you run? Why are you here? Why did you try to find me? Why are you here, Keith?” Anger was pushing at confusion and mounting despair.    
  
Keith shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought... I wanted you to come back. I wanted... I want... you. Lance I want you.” It was like the flood gates opened, everything pouring out without anything to restrain him. “Seeing you again after so long, hearing your laugh, feeling your skin, your hair... I miss you. I fucking miss you so damn much.” His eyes burned and his vision blurred. “I didn’t know until I saw you so happy for others that I wanted to be your source of happiness.” It was cheesy, it was sappy, but Keith’s parents were star crossed lovers with a tragic sob story so he was allowed to be dramatic. “I want you under me, over me, I want your heart and I want to give you mine but it’s too late. I’m too late.”   
  
Lance was still gobsmacked, unable to put together a clear response.    
  
Keith continued, too afraid to stop. “I’m not going to take you away when you’re so happy. Fuck man, you belong here. You belong here sharing yourself with others, giving them the glimpse of happiness they’re searching for. You—“   
  
“How about you let me decide what I need and where I belong, eh, pendejo.” The bite to Lance’s words silenced Keith. “Dios mio, Keith. You’ve always been shit at timing, but this? This is a new level of shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair and Keith flinched into the wall behind him. Lance sighed and scooted to sit next to Keith, resting his head on the other’s shoulder and wiggling to pry his hand away from his knee and into Lance’s own. “First off, I love my job. I love what I do. But the whole reason I’m doing it is to go home. That hasn’t changed. When I’m finally home? I’ll probably go back into flying for the Garrison. Maybe teaching. Reserve stripping for friends’ parties. Maybe do cam footage anonymously because that’s kind of a huge turn on for me. But Cascade isn’t my end all be all. It’s a stepping stone.”   
  
Keith felt his chest start to unwind. He squeezed Lance’s hand and Lance squeezed back.    
  
“I’ve had a lot of time while I was here to think about Voltron. About you all.” He exhaled shaken. “About you. And I don’t know that I’m a one partner guy but... I always thought I could try for you. If you asked.” He licked his lips and looked up into Keith’s violet eyes. “If you want me back at the Castle, I’ll go. If you want me to stay here, I’ll stay. But either way I’m not going to run again. I won't hide from you. Any of you. I’m tired of hiding.”   
  
They sat in silence, soaking up body heat and the decisions at hand. Neither could say what they wanted, except that they wanted each other.    
  
Keith leaned forward and kissed Lance’s temple. “Take me home?”   
  
They walked fast, taking turns Keith couldn’t remember but Lance knew all too well, until Keith was being pressed against Lance’s closed door with mouths clashing and bodies melding together. He gasped and Lance moaned. Clothes were gone. Strewn across the floor in a path to the bed where Keith was laid out a hand to his mouth and the other in Lance’s hair. Lance teased him with his tongue. Then his fingers. He rolled on a condom, coated himself in lube, and pressed forward until Keith was stretched and full and Lance could barely keep his cool. They stared at each other in that moment and neither could stop the laughter that bubbled out threatening to ruin the moment.    
  
“Stop laughing!”   
  
“You stop!”    
  
They laugh into their mouths, trying to kiss the laughter away. Lance moves and Keith moves with him. It’s languid, pausing several times to make it last, to talk and share, to laugh at the ridiculous situation they found themselves in. Finally the moment is over and they lose themselves to each other, desperately clawing and begging for more. When it ends, it feels less like an ending and more like a beginning. They clean up, making out in the shower, making out while drying their hair, making out on the changed sheets.   
  
“Come back with me?” Keith asks, fingers twined with Lance’s and Lance pressing kisses to his back and shoulders. He pauses burying his head into Keith’s neck.   
  
“Ok.” Calm descends and they think about what this means. “Fuck me on camera? I’ll still have my channel.” Keith snort laughs and Lance pouts. “Come on! I’m being serious!”   
  
Keith grins and turns his head to awkwardly catch Lance’s lips in a soft kiss. “Ok.”   
  
“Wait really?”   
  
“Yeah. What did you expect?”   
  
“Uh... not that.” A shift and Keith elbows Lance lightly. “Ow! Ok ok I surrender! Lo siento, lo siento! I’m sorry!”    
  
—   
  
“I’m sorry you’re expecting me to believe you just found Lance randomly?”   
  
“I’m sorry you want us to believe Lance was in a lucrative job that he just gave up to come back after running away?”   
  
“I’m sorry you’re telling us that job was stripping?” A pause. “No actually ok that’s believable.”   
  
“Hunk!” Pidge slapped at his arm earning a whining ow. “Stay on topic!”   
  
“What, it is! He used to do burlesque with his sister. It’s not too far a stretch.”   
  
As the two argued, Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to head of the impending headache. He looked up to study the two people in question, one looking bored and irritated as the other seemed ready to bolt at any chance given. He tried not humor their argument instead choosing to watch the two returned paladins lean into each other with a closeness that contradicted their past relationship. Something had changed on that tiny moon orbiting a gaseous planet. Something that only took three days to happen.   
  
Keith had his usual pack slung over his shoulder and looked as bored as ever so nothing obvious there. Beside him was Lance, in a cropped hoodie, black joggers and a beanie with two duffles and a pack slung over his shoulder and in his hands. He looked spooked, worried over the Paladins’ reactions to his return no doubt. Shiro didn’t blame him. There was no shortage of accusations ready to be flung at him after he’d all but abandoned them for a reason yet to be explained. All they’d shared so far was that Keith had found Lance after visiting a strip club (something Shiro knew wasn’t the full story because Keith had no interest in such establishments) and they’d “talked it out” ending in Lance returning to Voltron with Keith in tow.   
  
Oh and Lance and Keith were together. The one piece of the story they’d been up front with which had led to laughter when they all thought it was a joke and then awkward silence as they realized the young men were unironically holding hands.    
  
What the fuck had happened in the last three days that had changed so much?   
  
Honestly, Shiro was too tired and relieved to care at the moment. To move them along, he smiled and opened his arms in an invite. “Whatever happened, it’s good to have you back, Lance.”   
  
Lance’s wide, terrified eyes turned hopeful and then misty as he threw himself into Shiro’s arms. “God I missed your stupidly huge arms, Shiro! Wrap me up in safety and take me home, boss man.” Shiro laughed and patted his back, marveling at the muscles he could now feel hidden under his clothing. There was more to their story but he’d let it go for now.    
  
Allura took that as an invitation to wrap Lance up in a hug, squeezing him punishingly in either anger or happiness, it was hard to tell. “If you ever leave without a word again, Lance, I will personally see to it that your genitals never see the light of day again.”    
  
Lance squeaked at the threat. “Gotcha, not happening again.”   
  
And then it was open season as Pidge jumped onto Lance’s back, Hunk wrapped the three of them in a hug, and Coran dove in lifting all of them as they screamed in protest. Shiro smiled easily for the first time in over a year. Keith moved next to him watching with a fondness that was unexpected. “You did good, Keith. Whatever you did, you did good.”   
  
Keith tried to keep his reaction under control but he couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his neck and the smile that played on his lips. “Hopefully. He’s got some terms though. Things you have to agree to, without question.”   
  
“Yeah?” It didn’t seem to be too serious if Keith was still smiling. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”   
  
“Oh Lance, Blue has missed you so much! You have to see her. She’ll be so happy to have you back.”   
  
And the moment of jovial reunion ended. Keith tensed, frown slipping into place as Lance grimaced and looked down now that he was out his the five person hug. The smiles on the other’s faces slowly dropped as they registered the mood change. Allura looked around confused. “Lance?”   
  
Keith moved forward but Lance put his hand out to stop him. He smiled sadly and shook his head. “Sorry, Princess. I’m back but not to be a Paladin. I’m not... medically cleared to flying anything bigger than a small fighter.”   
  
This struck them all, confusion and concern hanging thick in the pod’s hangar.   
  
Coran was the one to ask. “How so? Last we had you here you were fine. Did something happen where ever you ended up?”   
  
Lance was clearly uncomfortable and Keith moved forward so the other could lean back against him. Shiro watched, still stunned at how close the two had become seemingly overnight.    
  
“It’s not safe. I, uh, had one too many knocks to the head before I left Voltron. It’s one of the reasons I left, though I didn’t know how serious it was until I was seen to by a trained medical professional after an episode.” His smile was fragile, as if this was something he’d never admitted to out loud. Or perhaps it was that he was admitting it to his team for the first time.   
  
Immediately Coran grabbed him into another hug. It took a moment but Lance’s arms wrapped around the man and it hit Shiro that before the boy left, he and Coran had been close. So much had slipped their minds in the last year, they’d be relearning as they went.   
  
No one seemed to know what to do after that admission so Shiro finally spoke up. “Whatever the case, Lance we’re happy you’re back. I’m sure Coran could use all the help he can get but that’s a talk for another day. How about you and Keith get reacquainted with your rooms before dinner. We can talk more after everyone’s gotten some rest and food.”   
  
Lance looked at him grateful and grabbed Keith’s hand. He tugged him away with a devilish smirk as he muttered “reacquainted, huh” which Shiro chose to ignore.   
  
With all the excitement calming down, Shiro decided to take leave as well, ready for a nap.   
  
—   
  
“Ok so we should be connected now. How the hell did you get Liz to part with two of her cameras?” Lance sat at Keith’s desk on his tablet establishing their connection with the brothel.    
  
Keith was behind him on the bed, shirt and boots off, cameras flitting around the bed like annoying flies. “I’ve been doing odd jobs for the Blade of Marmora and happened to find out she owed them quite a bit for an operation she flaked on.” He shrugged. “I offered to erase that debt.”   
  
Lance glanced at him. “Can you?”   
  
“Honestly? No idea. But she seemed more concerned with losing her main cash cow so I think she’d give them to us regardless. I just didn’t want to risk it.”   
  
“Sneaky, Kogane. Very sneaky.” Keith smirked and Lance went back to his screen. A few more frustrating clicks and he finally got the feed to open and jumped in joy at the site of Rolo’s smiling face on the other end. “Hello beautiful, glad   
to see you.”   
  
Keith frowned but Lance ignored it in favor of winking at his friend. Rolo for his part was laughing. “Careful, Blue. Your boy’s not the forgiving type.”   
  
Lance snickered. “Right right. You got my ID? I’d like to be live for a test stream tonight.”   
  
“With Keith? So soon?”   
  
Keith spoke up while swatting at the curious cameras. “Yes, Rolo. So soon. Lance wants to test and I want to fuck so here we are.”   
  
Rolo’s stupid smile never faded but Lance was excited so whatever. Keith could deal.    
  
“Just set the Coordinates to the server and then hit record or live like normal. You should get a steady feed of paid messages during it, requests and what not, the normal deal. Good luck, boys.”   
  
“Byyyye Rolo.”   
  
“Bye dirtbag.”   
  
Lance kicked at Keith and Keith grinned. He grabbed the foot and pulled Lance closer by it. “You ready?”   
  
Lance smiled back let his boyfriend kiss up his shin to his knee, to his thigh. His finger hovered over the live button. “Always.”    
  
Record.


End file.
